The old church and churchyard—The
church a pre-Reformation one— The architecture of it—Inscription
under west window—A church in Aberdour as early as the beginning of
twelfth century—An early Columban settlement?—Fight between William
de Mortimer and Canons of Inchcolme—Contest between the Canons and
Simon of Balran—The chapel of Beaupre—The ‘Fechtin’ Bishop’ and
Richard of Kirkcaldy—St. Fillan and his luminous arm—The Pilgrims’
Well —The Hospital of St. Martha: its site, foundation, endowment,
confirmation, occupants, career, and fall—The Sisterlands.

Among the many objects of interest which
are to be seen in and around our village, few have so many points of
attraction as our old church, now in ruins, and the churchyard which
surrounds it. The visitors who come to us during the bright months
of summer have no sooner taken in the leading features of the
landscape—the sparkling waters of the Firth, the cliffs of the 'Ha’
Craig,’ the beautifully-wooded 'Heughs’ on the east, and the winding
shore that stretches away to the west—than, as if by instinct, they
turn to the old Castle and the old Church. And if the former is
first visited, the more thoughtful stay for a longer time under the
shadow of the now deserted church. The villagers, too, love this
quiet retreat. Children are found playing on its moss-covered
tombstones in sunny weather. Aged men, with staff in hand, are seen
tottering among its stony records of the past, pointing out to one
another where their early associates sleep, and giving a quiet
glance at the place where they themselves will ere long be laid.
Only they to whom the meditative mood never comes are strangers to
the old churchyard. How picturesque and secluded is the situation!
Standing on the south side of the church, you are almost within a
stone-cast of the easter village; and yet, but for the occasional
shout of children, and some little bustle about the harbour, you
might think yourselves miles away from any human habitation. The
Castle buildings catch the eye as you turn to the west; but their
cold, grey, ruined walls only deepen the sense of solitude. Around
you swell the grassy mounds, where ‘the rude forefathers of the
hamlet sleep,’ with here and there an upright stone, or recumbent
slab of more modern date, which the hand of affection has placed to
mark the names and record the virtues of the sleepers below. And
ever and anon the warning reaches the eye, if it does not strike the
heart: Memento mori— Keep in mind that you have one day to die !
Raising your eyes over the somewhat ruinous churchyard wall, the
noble trees meet your view which William, the eighth Earl of Morton,
planted more than two centuries ago; and to the right you see the
glittering waters of the Firth and the waving outline of the blue
Pentlands beyond.

And what reflections rise in the mind as we gaze on the grassy
mounds all around us ! Here lie those who were inhabitants of the
village more than seven centuries ago. Here sleep some of the
unlettered peasantry of the dark and middle ages. Here are laid some
of the scarcely more enlightened barons, and those retainers of
theirs who fought alongside of them in many a skirmish, and were
spared to return home, their warfare now ended. Here rest many of
the former traders of the village. Sailors who in their time felt
the tossing of many seas, have here found a quiet haven. Masters and
servants have alike lain down to sleep here, the work of both over.
The dust of friends and foes lies here peacefully blended. Here,
side by side, repose ministers and people, teachers and scholars,
parents and children. Here ‘the wicked cease from troubling, and the
weary are at rest.’ It is in such a place as this that Gray’s
inimitable ‘Elegy ’ should be studied, in order to discover its
wonderful truthfulness to nature, as well as the literary beauties
that lurk in every line. And perhaps there is no place where the
finest passages of Blair’s celebrated poem, 'The Grave,’ can be read
with such effect as here, beside the grave and mouldering tombstone
of his still more noted grandfather, Robert Blair, minister of St.
Andrews, who was at one time chaplain to Charles the First, and who,
being dead, yet speaketh! in the Christian motto that can still be
read on his poor crumbling monument, Mors Janua Vitae—Death is the
Gate of Life.

But it is time to have done with these musings in order that we may
have a careful look at the ruined church, and then tell something of
its history, and what we know of those who have ministered and
worshipped within its walls.

A careful look at the old church tells us that it was built before
the Reformation, although some alterations have been made on its
original structure. And yet, roofless and hastening to utter decay
as it is, its early form can easily be traced. The easternmost
part—the chancel—which is 23 feet 8 inches long by 18 feet 7 inches
wide, measured from the outside, was the portion set apart for the
use of those who performed Divine service. It was separated from the
nave or body of the church by a screen, and was lighted by four
narrow round-headed windows. Three of these have, to some extent,
been altered, but the original construction may easily be seen from
an examination of the one in the north wall. Although these windows
are 3 feet in length, they are only 12 inches wide on the outside;
but they widen in the interior into a deep splay, till the opening
measures, at its greatest width, 4 feet 2 inches. Beneath one of the
windows is an ambry, in which the utensils of the altar were, in all
likelihood, kept. There is a fine arch, of a decidedly Norman
character, between the chancel and the nave; and the nave has an
aisle on its south side. The pillars which divide the nave from the
aisle are cylindrical in form, and very strong in proportion to
their height. They support three large semicircular arches. The
north wall is nearly perfect, and is pierced by three windows. Only
one of these, however, is old—the narrow round-headed one, which is
5 feet long by 14 inches wide. There was at one time a round-headed
door, near the west end of this wall. The building which joins on to
the wall in question was first an aisle, and is now converted into a
vault. It was no part of the original building; but was erected in
1608 by the family of Phin of Whitehill, whose initials, along with
the date, are still to be read on it. The south wall is very much
reduced in height; and, while a great quantity of rubbish has been
allowed to collect inside of it, it is still more to be regretted
that a bank of earth has been heaped against it on the outside,
which makes the wall appear much lower than it actually is. And,
strange to say, in this forced earth graves have been dug, and the
dead buried, which renders improvement in that direction wellnigh
impossible. The west wall has a double splayed window, with two
pointed lights, and a pear-shaped opening in the head. The whole
appearance of this window points it out as comparatively modern ;
and the way in which the belfry is placed on the wall points it out
as evidently of a still more recent date. Immediately under the
window is a slab with the following inscription in capital letters
highly relieved :—

I shall by and by show you that Aberdour was in early times a great
place of resort for pilgrims, owing to the attractions of a holy
well; and I think it likely that it was for the benefit of these
strangers, in the first instance, that this inscription was placed
under the window of the church.

The date 1588 on the belfry gives us, in all likelihood, the period
when the latest alterations of any moment were made on the church.
But the great body of the building, as I have already said, is
manifestly very old, and may have been reared a century, or even
two, before the period of the Reformation. The nave is 55 feet long,
and, including the aisle, is 35 feet wide. The vault belonging to
the Morton family is evidently an innovation, and was probably
constructed about the time when William, the eighth Earl, came to
reside at the Castle. But of this vault, and those whose remains
rest within it, we shall have more to say in another connection.1
The porch at the south-west corner of the church was evidently the
entrance to the building before alterations had been made on it,
probably about the time of the Reformation. Although roofless, it is
pretty entire. The inner door is still traceable ; and a little to
the east of it is a small recess, probably what is called a ‘stoupe,’
for holding holy water.

Concluding from the evidence that has been laid before you, that
this old church was the place of worship for the parish throughout a
period stretching from before the Reformation till the close of last
century, much of a historical kind that is interesting might be told
regarding it, although our researches should go no further back. But
we know, from the Bull of Pope Alexander the Third, to which
reference has already been made, that there was a church at Aberdour
as early as the year 1178. This carries us nearly four hundred years
further back, to a period between the conquest of Ireland by Henry
the Second and the Third Crusade ; and some information regarding
the church of Aberdour between that early time and the period of the
Reformation may be gleaned from the Chartulary of Inchcolme, and
other quarters.

The question, indeed, may at this stage be put, and should get an
answer, whether authentic information does not carry us further back
still. It is to be remembered that when the Romans invaded our
country, in the eightieth year of the Christian era, the
inhabitants, both north and south of the Forth, were Pagans. The
first rays of Christianity seem to have come to Scotland with
soldiers of the squadrons of the Ciesars. It would thus appear that
it was not from Romish Priests, but Roman soldiers, that the light
first came which, in spite of many a temporary eclipse, was to put
to flight the darkness of Paganism. Indeed, the early Christian
Church, in the northern part as well as in the south of our island,
was on many questions decidedly opposed to the tenets of Rome, and
for centuries withstood her arrogant claims. It is no doubt true, as
the historians tell us, that St. Ninian came as Bishop to the
Southern Picts, and St. Palladius as Bishop to the Scots, when these
were yet separate and rival nations. But every intelligent reader of
the New Testament knows that the earliest bishops were simply
pastors : and Ninian and Palladius were, as has been well said, more
like itinerant Methodist preachers, or missionaries, than bishops in
the modern sense of the term. Strange as it may sound in some ears,
the land to which our country was more indebted than to any other in
those early days was Ireland. From that country came Columba and his
missionary companions, in the sixth century, to Iona, from which, as
a base, they operated on both Scots and Picts, carrying the
blessings of Christianity away also into the northern parts of
England, and eventually even into distant parts of the continent of
Europe. Now it certainly would be an interesting thing could we
discover how the district in which we live was affected by the
labours of the first missionaries of the Cross among the Southern
Picts; what rays of Christianity, reflected from the Roman soldiery
who professed it, had struggled into the district; how far the
labours of St. Ninian told on its inhabitants; and to what extent
the preaching of St. Columba and his followers among them was
successful. Much as we would hail information of such a kind
regarding these early times, it has to be admitted that it is only
when we come to the last-named period that we have any written
reference to our neighbourhood, and even that is sometimes of rather
a shadowy kind. Over the whole neighbourhood, however, there is a
hazy gleam, telling of Columba, and his influence over it. It is not
merely that the monastery on Inchcolme was dedicated to him, and
stands on an island called by his name—an island which he is said to
have visited, and on which a hermit devoted to his service
undoubtedly had his cell before the monastery was founded,—but from
the earliest times of which we have any notice, Aberdour has
belonged to the See of Dunkeld, which was the headquarters of the
Columban missionaries after they left Iona; and the patron saint of
our church was St. Fillan, who, like Columba himself, was Scoto-Irish.
If Columba did not personally labour in our neighbourhood, there is
every likelihood that some of his followers did. There are many
strange stories told of the labours of St. Servanus at Culross, on
the one hand, and Dysart on the other, but none of his spurious
miracles are said to have been wrought here.

Coming down, now, to the notices of the church of Aberdour contained
in the Chartulary of Inchcolme, some may be ready to ask, as a
preliminary question, where the church of the twelfth century stood.
To this we reply—and we have already assumed it—that undoubtedly it
occupied the site of the present ruined church. It was a most
unusual thing in early times to shift the site of a church; and when
this was done, the old churchyard infallibly told where the earlier
church had stood. And as no earlier churchyard than that which
surrounds the ruined church is known, we may be quite sure that from
the very earliest times any church that existed at Aberdour stood
there.

What would we not give for a look at the little church of the
twelfth century, to mark its appearance, to see the worshippers in
their old-fashioned costume, and especially to observe the religious
services in which they engage? Would we not give a great deal to see
what goes on in it, on some high day, which has brought the Abbot
and Canons over from Inchcolme, and has called together a great many
of the inhabitants of Aberdour? Now it so happens that by means of
one of the old charters we do get a glimpse of what goes on, both in
and around the church, at a very early time. It is somewhere towards
the close of the twelfth century. The church of Aberdour had become
vacant, probably by the death of the Vicar, whose name does not
transpire, and it became necessary to appoint a successor. It would
appear, moreover, that even as far back as the times of the
Crusades, a vacancy in the church of Aberdour could not be filled up
without a good deal of din and dust. The Abbot and Canons of
Inchcolme were the undoubted patrons of the benefice. But it so
happened that David, Earl of Huntingdon, the brother of the King
(William the Lion), had heard of the vacancy —being probably at the
time resident at Dunfermline,—and he made application to William de
Mortimer on behalf of Robert, his clerk, that he might be appointed
to the charge. William de Mortimer was a member of the family of
whom I have already spoken as possessors of the castle and barony of
Aberdour. He was, no doubt, anxious to oblige the King’s brother;
and although it might have been considered an obstacle in the way
that he happened not to be the patron, yet the barons of those days
were not men to stick at trifles, and so Robert was, in the most
handsome manner, presented to the vacant charge. Some legal forms,
however, needed to be gone through ere Robert’s position was quite
impregnable. He had to be seised and vested in the church, or
inducted, as we should now-a-days say; and this business, to be gone
about fairly, had to be managed by certain messengers sent by the
baron, as well as some clerks of the King’s. But much falls between
the cup and the lip, and it is difficult to catch either a fox or an
abbot asleep. The tidings of what was that day to be done had been
carried by some bird of the air across the water to Inchcolme, and
so Abbot and Canons were early astir, and the oars of their boat, as
they skimmed the water, gleamed in the rays of the morning sun. The
mainland being reached, the members of the Convent were seen making
straight for the church, and it was high time for them to enter an
appearance, for others were there bent on giving them trouble. The
Abbot and Canons took up their position before the door of the
church, holding a cross aloft, and various precious relics, which,
we fear, were made still more worthy of the name by that day’s
service; and thus shielded by the symbols of sanctity, these
reverend fathers lifted up their voices when the clerks and
messengers appeared, and declared that the deed that day threatened
to be done was a foul wrong, and there and then they formally put
the church of Aberdour under the protection of the Pope, and made
their appeal to him. All this was of course sufficiently imposing,
and might have been considered weighty enough to stay proceedings in
the matter of Robert’s induction for that day at least. But it did
not produce the desired effect on William de Mortimer and his
retainers; for the Canons of Inchcolme were shamefully beaten,
dragged about, and put to flight, and Robert was intruded into the
charge (omnibus tandetn turpiter pulsatis, tractatis, atque fugatis,
Robertum intru-serunt). A very early and aggravated case of
intrusion, you will all admit ! But Robert did not long enjoy the
hard-won emoluments, or even the honours, of his office. The Abbot
and Canons found ways and means by which William de Mortimer and
Robert his protege were brought to a sense of their wrong-doing. For
by and by we find Robert making his peace with the brethren of
Inchcolme, and giving up all claim to the church; and William de
Mortimer signs a deed, in which he makes a most humbling confession
of the wrong he has done, and, declaring that he has now discovered
that the church of Aberdour had belonged to the Canons of Inchcolme
in the days of King Alexander, King David, and King Malcolm, he
renounces all claim to be patron of it.

A considerable time elapses ere we get another peep into the church
of those early times. At length the year 1273 comes round. It is in
the troublous times that followed the melancholy death of Alexander
the Third, at Kinghorn, in our neighbourhood. To those who wish
something named contemporary with what I am about to relate, it may
be said that Dante, the Italian poet, was alive at the time. It is
Thursday, and the first return of that day after the Feast of St.
Leonard, so it must have been in the gloomy month of November. On
that day there is again a great concourse of people in the old
church. Robert de Stutte-ville, Bishop of Dunkeld, who played such
an important part in the rebellion headed by the Earl of Menteith,
is there. So are representatives of the Convent of Inchcolme. And,
last of all, among the leading personages we see Simon of Balran—a
place in our neighbourhood, now known as Balram. But, in addition to
these, there are present, as the old charter assures us, a great
many men of credit and renown. A controversy is evidently going on,
and while the Bishop sits as umpire, and some member of the Convent
makes a statement on the one side, Simon replies on the other. At
length the Bishop thinks the matter is clear enough, and gives his
decision; whereupon a roll of parchment is produced, and a scribe
sits down and writes leisurely a statement, which is read in the
hearing of all. Then the Bishop appends his seal, and Simon does the
same; and the matter takes end. And what, you are ready to ask, is
it all about? Has Simon been suspected of heresy, and has he
appealed to the judgment of the Bishop of the diocese? And has he at
length recanted, and appended his seal to a declaration in harmony
with the views of Holy Mother Church ? Nothing of the kind. The
dispute is regarding the land of Leyis, which Simon’s grandfather
had made over to the Monastery, and regarding the ownership of which
some question has now arisen. But Simon seems to stand quite erect,
in presence of the Bishop and the Canons of Inchcolme, and states
his case, and claims what he deems to be his right. And he must have
made some impression on the Bishop, for while he quitclaims the land
of Leyis to the Monastery, and appends his seal to the document
which declares this, forty silver marks have to pass over from the
purse of the treasurer of the Convent into Simon’s pocket.

We have hitherto been speaking of the old church of Aberdour as if
it had been the only one in the parish. But it may interest you to
know that, at a very early period, there was a chapel, in our
immediate, neighbourhood, at a place called Beaupre. The name,
curiously enough, is French, signifying ‘the beautiful meadow,’ and
has now become corrupted into Bowprie. I find mention made of this
chapel as early as the year 1320, six years after the battle of
Bannockburn. The place was, at that time, known as the Grange of
Beaupre. It was, no doubt, a farm place belonging to the brethren of
the Monastery, where their grain was stored. Most of the religious
houses of the time had granges, and it was not an uncommon thing for
such places to have a chapel attached to them. Let us see what goes
on in the little chapel at Beaupre on the occasion referred to. It
is a Saturday, and a day set apart to commemorate the holy widow
Felicitas ; so it is once more in the month of November. No less a
personage is present than William Sinclair, Bishop of Dunkeld, ‘the
Fechtin’ Bishop,’ as he is sometimes called. He has not had far to
come, having in all likelihood been living at the time at the
baronial residence of the Bishop of Dunkeld, near Auchtertool, a
residence afterwards known as Hallyards, and now called Camilla. Sir
Richard, the chaplain of Aberdour, is also present ; a person of the
name of William Godard; a workman belonging to Aberdour, whose name
is Thomas, probably either the joiner or the blacksmith of the
village; and many more. But in addition to all these there is a
stranger present, a Churchman too he is, as you may perceive by his
dress. He is Richard of Kirkcaldy, Rector of the church of Melville,
in the diocese of St. Andrews, and he has come to settle a little
matter of business before the Bishop. There has been a
misunderstanding between him and the Abbot and Convent of Inchcolme.
Near the church of Leslie, then called Fithkil, which belonged to
the Monastery of Inchcolme, there stood a little chapel called ‘the
Chapel of the Blessed Mary.’ It stood near the cemetery of the
church of Fithkil, a church regarding which many interesting things,
both ancient and modern, might be told, among others this, that,
according to Allan Ramsay, it was the scene of the famous Scottish
poem, ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green.’ It might be supposed that in the
case of such a matter as a chapel there could be little room for a
contest as to ownership. Yet so it was. The Rector of Melville
claimed it, and so did the Abbot and Convent of Inchcolme. Richard
of Kirkcaldy has, however, now got more light on the matter, whether
struck out by the blows of controversy, or due to the presence of
‘the Fechtin’ Bishop,’ we shall not determine. But he is now willing
to renounce all claim of right and law to the Chapel of the Blessed
Mary, and he is there that day to append his seal to a document
which sets this clearly forth. The various seals are of course
appended to the agreement, but to make assurance doubly sure, a copy
of the Scriptures, laid open at the Holy Evangelists, is placed
before the Rector, and with his hand on it he solemnly swears his
renunciation of right.

After this slight digression we turn again to the old church of
Aberdour. It was the custom long ago to dedicate every church to
some saint or other. I mentioned incidentally a little while ago
that our old church was dedicated to St. Fillan. This was easily
said, but who can describe the labour expended ere it could be
stated as an undoubted fact? I made inquiry about it at the living,
without success; I had recourse to the dead, through the books they
had written; but where I found any reference made to the church, the
place where the saint’s name should have been was a blank. I made
inquiry as to the date of Aberdour Fair, thinking to steal a march
on the saint in that way. But I found that the 20th of June—your
Fair-day— led me to St. Columba’s Day. In the immediate
neighbourhood of the Monastery dedicated to him, it was not
wonderful that St. Columba should have eclipsed a minor saint. In
short, it was not until, hunting for some fact connected with the
village, I lighted on the will of Sir James Douglas, of date 1390,
and printed in the Morton papers, that I found what had so long
evaded my search. The lands and barony of Aberdour, as we lately
saw, passed from the hands of the 'Knight of Liddesdale’ into those
of his nephew, Sir James Douglas. This Sir James, I found, being
desirous of giving some token of good-will to the church nestling
under the shadow of his castle, bequeathed £3, 6s. 8d., a
considerable sum in those days, for the purchase of vestments for
the church of St. Fillan of Aberdour. So the problem was at length
solved. And who, it may be asked, was St. Fillan? I have already
spoken of him as a Scoto-Irish saint, but something-more special
must now be said of him. Judging from the accounts which have been
handed down to us, he was a man in every way worthy of our notice.
It appears that as early as the seventh century he was Abbot of
Pittenweem in Fife. But so much did he love solitude that he retired
from the bustle of that place, which must surely have been something
more formidable then than it is now; and he ended his days in a
hermitage in the wilds of Glenorchy in Perthshire. This good man, it
further appears, had many remarkable and useful qualities. While
engaged in writing, his left arm, resting on the parchment, emitted
so brilliant a light that, in the darkest nights, a candle or a lamp
was to him quite a superfluity, and as he was a late sitter, this
arm of his must have proved a great saving to the convent; although,
of course, it could not be so conveniently carried about for the
general behoof as a lamp could. In the pages of monkish chroniclers
everything out of the common run of events connected with the Church
or Churchmen was spoken of as miraculous, to the sad detriment of
those incidents which, at the beginning of the Christian era, had a
right to be so regarded. But we have no doubt that St. Fillan, could
he only be properly described, would be found to have had many real
excellencies. The virtues of his luminous arm, if we may believe the
chroniclers, did not pass away with his life. It was deemed worthy
of being placed in a silver shrine after the good man had no more
personal need of it; and many a remarkable incident was traced to
it. It is well known that King Robert the Bruce had a great
reverence for the memory of St. Fillan, and this silver shrine was
carried at the head of his army to the field of Bannockburn. I have
intentionally said the shrine; but there can be no doubt that both
the King and the saint intended that the arm should be in it.
Maurice, Abbot of Inchaffray, afterwards Bishop of Dunblane, was
however a man of considerably less faith than Bruce was, and
thinking it a possible thing that the casket might fall into the
hands of the English, he, keeping the secret meanwhile to himself,
deposited the arm in a place of safety at a distance from the
battlefield, and with much pawky coolness marched before the army
with the empty casket. In the heat of the battle the Bruce is said
to have uttered a hasty prayer to the saint, turning his eyes the
while to the casket, little dreaming that it was empty. The Abbot
retained his gravity, but the saint could stand the deception no
longer. Was the Bruce to risk life and limb, and his kingdom to
boot, on the issue of the battle, and was St. Fillan to connive at
the cowardice of being afraid to risk his dead arm, or be guilty of
the meanness of pretending that he ran the risk? The thing was not
for a moment to be thought of! The Bruce’s prayer was hardly uttered
when the lid of the casket was observed to open suddenly, and as
suddenly to close with a click. The battle was won, and Scotland was
free; and when the casket was opened, in it lay the arm of St.
Fillan!

Well, we know that the battle of Bannockburn was fought and won in
another way than this. Brawny arms wielding heavy claymores dealt
sturdy blows to the assailants of the independence of Scotland, and
manly hearts, that throbbed with a strong passion for freedom and
with the scorn of tyranny, lent weight to these blows. But above
all, God, who has endowed man with the love of freedom, had better
things in store for our countrymen, and for us, than the
substitution of debasing servitude for that liberty which is
Scotland’s birthright. The monkish fable which I have related to you
no doubt betrays much weakness and ignorance ; but it, and other
similar stories that find a place in the chronicler’s pages,
indicate another quality, for which I must utter a word of
commendation in reference to the ecclesiastics of Scotland in those
early days. These men, Roman Catholics though they were, were at the
same time patriots. They loved their country, and had no sympathy
with any one who tampered with its civil liberty, be he king,
prelate, or pope. The system of Popery has expanded since then, and
as it has developed it has sunk in character. Ultramontanism means
the bondage of conscience and the death of patriotism.

Wherever you find a church or chapel dedicated to St. Fillan, the
likelihood is that you will find near it a well, or pool of water,
which in old times was believed to be endowed with miraculous
qualities. Near the old church of St. Fillan’s, in the parish of
Killin, there is a pool called the ‘Holy Pool,’ which was long
thought to be efficacious in the cure of lunacy; and many were the
cases in which, down to a comparatively recent period, those
afflicted with that sad ailment were dipped in it. In the
Statistical Account of that parish there is a curious notice of a
bell which belonged to this church, and has now found a
resting-place in the Museum of the Society of Antiquaries in
Edinburgh. This bell, which is about 18 inches in height, is of an
oblong shape, as is the case with many ecclesiastical bells of a
great age, and it was reputed to have many strange qualities. When
any one was dipped in the pool for lunacy the cure was thought
incomplete till the bell was put on the patient’s head. It was
believed also to be possessed of a very convenient quality, which
effectually prevented its being stolen. When any one carried it off,
it found its way back to the old chapel with as unerring certainty
as the saint’s arm did to its silver shrine at Bannockburn. It
seems, too, to have amused itself on its return journey home by
ringing all the way!

I do not know that our church-of St. Fillan had any remarkable bell
belonging to it; but undoubtedly we can claim a pilgrims’ well of
great notoriety, and there is great likelihood that this well owed
something of its supposed potency to the saint. As a long blank now
occurs in the information we have regarding the old church, I shall
devote the remainder of this lecture to an account of the Hospital
of St. Martha, which owed its origin to the well in question.

If little has hitherto been known by the villagers in modern times
regarding their old church, still less is known in reference to this
Hospital. So much had the lapse of three hundred years obliterated
the memory of it, that, in answer to many inquiries, I could elicit
from the villagers no more information about it than this: that a
‘nunnery’ once stood on the site of the old manse in the easter
village, and that the ground known as ‘the Sisterlands’ had at one
time belonged to it. The very name of the Hospital had been
forgotten. It is on this account a source of great pleasure to me to
be able to give some account of this interesting old place.

The Hospital of St. Martha, then, did stand on the site afterwards
occupied by the old manse in the easter village; and the buildings
connected with it, in all likelihood, extended a considerable way
back from the main street. None of the original buildings now
remain, but the curious in such matters may still discover some of
the stones that composed the old edifice built into the wall that
encloses the garden immediately behind. The hospital owed its origin
to James, the first Earl of Morton, who was married to one of the
daughters of King James the First of Scotland. We know that in the
year 1474 Michael was Abbot of the Monastery of Inchcolme, and Sir
John Scot was Vicar of Aberdour. At that early period Aberdour was
much resorted to by pilgrims, the great source of attraction being
the ‘Pilgrims’ Well,’ of which I have just spoken. The heart of the
Vicar had, it appears, often been melted at the thought of the
little accommodation provided for these pilgrims and poor people,
and he earnestly besought the Earl to provide some shelter for them;
hinting, at the same time, that it was a good opportunity for him to
do something for the expiation of his own sins, and those of his
progenitors. The Vicar’s suggestion was piously and warmly
entertained by the Earl, and steps were taken to have the work gone
about with all possible despatch. It may have helped on the work
that the Pope, Sixtus the Fourth, had, about three years before this
time, written a letter to Lord Morton, as to other important
personages, intimating his assumption of the purple, his desire that
heretics should be exterminated, and Holy Mother Church thus be more
firmly established than ever, and that kings and princes should, in
short, do their best for the Pope, in which case he would do his
best for them. Such a work as the foundation of a religious house
could not, however, be well proceeded with until the sanction of the
Abbot and Canons of Inchcolme should be got, seeing that one of
their number was to have charge of it. The Earl accordingly
addressed a formal request to them that they would allow the Vicar
of Aberdour to have the care, administration, disposition, and
conservation of the Hospital about to be erected, it being
understood that the successors of the Vicar in the church of
Aberdour should succeed, by virtue of this office, to the rectorial
care of the projected institution. The Abbot and Canons at once
granted his Lordship’s request, and they bound themselves in the
most solemn manner to be no parties to the alienation of the
property of the Hospital, or the application of its revenues to
other purposes than those which the literal rendering of his
Lordship’s deed of foundation warranted. In their deed of obligation
they further declared that, since the work contemplated by his
Lordship is one which is in itself good, and flows from charity,
they would be ashamed in any way to turn its revenues aside to other
purposes. Poverty with the favour of God, they say, is to them
dearer than riches without it. And since they themselves delight in
the projected work, and have a wish to please his Lordship, their
approval is all the more readily given. It is understood that the
Vicar and his successors in office are to have the care and
management of the Hospital if no canonical impediment should stand
in the way; and the whole Convent give the assurance that they will
not sell nor appropriate it to their own use, or the use of any
other; neither will they intromit with its revenue in any other way
than the literal rendering of his Lordship’s deed of concession and
ordination warrants.

Then comes the charter, on which the deed of obligation proceeds, in
which James Earl of Morton wishes all men to take notice that he
has, of his own free will, made over in the surest way that acre of
land lying within the territory of his town of Aberdour, at the east
end of it, and on the north side of the road which leads to the town
of Kingorne (Kinghorn), to that religious man, his familiar and
beloved friend, Sir John Scot, Vicar of Aberdour, and his assignees.
The Earl relates how the pious importunity of the Vicar had led him
to consider whether he ought not to do something which might be a
solace to pilgrims, and some measure of support to the poor, and
which might, at the same time, be dedicated to the Omnipotent God,
and His Most Blessed Mother, Mary, our Lady, ever-Virgin, and the
blessed Martha, the hostess of our Lord Jesus Christ; which,
moreover, might be of some avail towards the expiation of his own
sins and the sins of his parents. For these ends his Lordship
desires it may be known that he has given the aforesaid acre of
land, and as great a space over and above this as is required for
the site of the proposed buildings ; that he has given free entrance
and exit to and from every part of the buildings, as well as the
acre; also that he has given as much land on the east side of the
proposed site as will suffice for a cart-road. All this, he further
declares, is done with the consent of his two sons, John his heir,
and James his younger son.

It is stipulated, in reference to the Vicar, that he shall have
during his lifetime, and after him the Vicars his successors, the
whole care and management of the Hospital, unless they shall neglect
it, or turn its revenues aside to other uses than those for which it
has been founded. Nor shall the Vicar be removed from his office as
Rector of the Hospital, and from the rights belonging to it, unless
he becomes an oppressor of the poor or a spoiler of their goods. It
is further stipulated that, if anything should happen, at the
instance of any of the Earl’s heirs or assignees, to invalidate this
grant of land, he shall be held to have granted to the Vicar, and
the Hospital of St. Martha, fourteen acres of land, lying at the
west boundary of the town of Dalkeith : which land his Lordship had
bought with his own money from Marcus Dunbar. And in order that
nothing more may be wanting to complete the transaction, William
Gifford, his Lordship’s uncle, is ordered to give state and seisin
of the land to the Vicar. The Earl’s seal is appended to the
charter, at Dalkeith, on the ioth of July 1474, and the Monastery
seal is appended to the obligation. Such is the nature of the first
document connected with the Hospital. The ecclesiastics of those
early days were great adepts in the art of leading men on to the
ice, as regards gifts of land. One acre of land, even at that time,
must have been quite inadequate to the maintenance of the Hospital.
But the great thing was to get his Lordship on the ice. A gentle
push would keep him moving after that. Accordingly, after five years
had elapsed, we find the Earl granting three additional acres of
land in his town of Aberdour, which acres were then occupied by John
Young the fuller, and Robert and Walter Cant, and this land is to be
held as a donation to the Hospital, for behoof of the poor people
living and lodging there : with all and whole the liberties and
commodities pertaining to it—bloodwytes excepted : and alienation of
the land is prohibited, under pain of the Divine indignation. His
Lordship ordains, moreover, that in case any one shall ever think of
building on the south of the street, near the Hospital, there shall
be left such a space as then existed between the house of Clement
Cant and the house of David Hume, so that there may be, in all time
coming, a road not less than sixteen ells in. breadth, extending to
‘le pilgramys well.’ Of this well I shall have something to say at a
later stage.

His Lordship having granted this additional boon, it may occur to
some one to ask what corresponding advantage he was likely to reap.
We are far from supposing that the consciousness of showing kindness
to the poor pilgrims was not considered by him a sufficient reward.
But in addition to this, he was allowed the privilege of indicating
what souls were daily to be prayed for by the Vicar, and those who
were to enjoy the shelter of the Hospital. And the Earl availed
himself of this privilege, as the following list will show, which
embraces the names and designations of some persons then living, of
others who had been long dead, and references to others still who
had not yet been born.

There was, first of all, the soul of the late illustrious monarch,
James the Third; then the soul of the illustrious Queen Margaret his
spouse; and the souls of the excellent Prince, James the Fourth and
his children. After these the Earl enumerates the soul of James
Douglas, of happy memory, his great-grandfather; also of James
Douglas, of happy memory, the father of the founder, and Elizabeth
his mother. He seems to have had some pique at his grandfather, for
he is not named. Then, to continue the list, there was his own soul,
that of his illustrious lady, Johanna, the third daughter of James
the First; the souls of John and James his sons, and of Johanna and
Elizabeth his daughters; with all his ancestors, successors, and
benefactors, and all the faithful dead.

Such were the persons whose souls were to be prayed for while the
Hospital stood; and regularly as the hour of noon came round, the
poor persons and pilgrims who found shelter within its walls were to
assemble in the chapel of the Hospital, after the ringing of the
bell, and there, on bended knees, were devoutly to repeat five
Paternosters and five Ave Marias. It is long since the bell of St.
Martha’s Hospital has ceased to ring; long since pilgrims and
palmers flocked to Aberdour to drink the waters of its. holy well;
and long since, at the hour of noon, they hied to the little chapel
to repeat on bended knees Paternosters and Angelical Salutations.
Yet we might profit by making the inquiry whether we are as earnest,
as devout, and as true to the greater light we enjoy, as the founder
of St. Martha’s Hospital and the pilgrims who frequented its chapel,
nearly four centuries ago, were to the measure of light they
possessed.

It has to be stated, to the credit of his Lordship, that, in this
second charter, there is found a stringent clause ordaining that if
the Rector of the Hospital should ever abuse the revenues committed
to his care, or lead an immoral life, he should be expelled from the
office, and some God-fearing man put in his place.

An important part of the history of the Hospital has yet to be told.
Lord Morton had been led gently on the ice, and had got one push.
Another was yet necessary. First one acre of land had been bestowed
on the contemplated Hospital. Then other three had been granted ;
and it had been arranged that the fruit and produce of the lands
thus given should for three years be applied to the erection of the
necessary buildings, and afterwards go to the support of the poor
pilgrims. In i486—twelve years after the project was launched—his
Lordship is found complaining that, after all he has given, the
works are not yet completed. And in that year he grants other four
acres of his lands of Inchmartin, lying near the Hospital, and at
that time occupied by David Gifford, making altogether eight acres.

In this year, moreover, we detect a change of purpose of an
important kind. The first project was to have a Hospital, of which
the Vicar of Aberdour and his successors in office should be
Rectors. Now that plan is laid aside, and it is resolved that four
Sisters of the Third Order of St. Francis shall look after the
pilgrims. With a view to this, we find Sir John Scot making over to
Lord Morton, in favour of Isobel and Jean Wight, Frances Henryson,
and Jean Dross, Sisters of the Holy Order of St. Francis, the care
and administration of the poor travellers ; and it is expressly
enjoined that these Sisters shall daily go into the chapel, at the
hour of noon, when the bell has ceased to ring, and repeat, on
bended knees, five Paternosters and five Angelical Salutations, with
such other prayers as are pleasing to them. These Sisters are
expressly mentioned in the last charter which his Lordship granted;
and the various gifts which he had made to the Hospital through the
Vicar are made over to them and their successors in office.

The Hospital, under the guardianship of these ladies, was speedily
equipped, and in the following year, 1487, it was confirmed by a
Bull of Pope Innocent the Eighth. The nuns of the Order thus
installed in the Hospital of St. Martha go by various names : Poor
Clares, Nuns of St. Clair, Claresses, and Sisters of Penitence of
the Third Order of St. Francis. Two facts account for all these
designations. The nuns referred to were originally established by
St. Clair in Italy, and they were admitted into the Order of
Franciscans by St. Francis himself. St. Francis prescribed a
particular Rule for them, full of austerities, but whether or not
our Aberdour nuns followed it strictly, I am not in a position to
say.

Although the Hospital was short-lived—having after its full
equipment had only a career extending over seventy-three years—it
might have been expected that some notices of its history should be
extant. That it gave shelter to many a poor pilgrim, coming to
Aberdour to seek some assuagement of pain by the use of the waters
of the holy well, we cannot doubt. But the only scrap of information
I can find regarding it has reference to its fall, at the time of
the Reformation. On the 18th of August 1560, the nuns—whose names at
that time were Agnes Wrycht, called Mother, and Elizabeth Trumball,
Margaret Crummy, and Cristina Cornawell, Sisters—set in feu to
James, Earl of Morton, afterwards the celebrated Regent, the eight
acres commonly called ‘the Sisterlands,’ with the place and garden
in the town of Aberdour; and this they did, with their hand at the
pen, led by notary—which means that they could not write their own
names. To this deed the Convent seal, having a figure of the Virgin,
was affixed.

Spotiswood, in his Religious Houses, speaking of the nuns who
followed the Order of St. Francis, says, ‘The nuns of this institute
had only two houses in this country, namely, Aberdour in the shire
of Fife, and Dundee in the shire of Angus, of whom there is little
or no mention made by our writers.’

A sentence or two more regarding the Pilgrims’ Well, and I have
done. I have little doubt, from what aged people have told me, that
this well lay about thirty yards to the south-east of the south-east
corner of the old churchyard. There is another well, with a fine
spring of water, to the south of this locality, and quite close to
the harbour; but tradition does not point to it as having at any
time had more than ordinary virtue in its water; whereas old people
have assured me that, within the memory of their parents, persons
afflicted with sore eyes used to come from a great distance to seek
relief from the application of the water of the other well. This, in
all likelihood, was the last trace of the old belief, that it
possessed miraculous efficacy. The practice of superstitiously
resorting to so-called holy wells engaged the attention of the Synod
of Fife as lately as the year 1649, and the following is the
resolution which was then come to: ‘The Assemblie, being informit
that some went superstitiouslie to wellis, denominat from Saintis,
ordains Presbitries to tak notice thairof, and to censure these that
are guiltie of that fait.’ As the Synod met on that occasion in
Dunfermline, it is not unlikely that the deliverance may have had
some reference to the Pilgrims’ Well at Aberdour.

Such are a few facts regarding your old church, and such the
history—now, I believe, for the first time told—of the Hospital of
St. Martha. I wish the narrative had been made more interesting. But
it has been a task of some difficulty, out of a few legal documents,
abounding in contractions, and in some parts effaced, to produce an
intelligible history of the old nunnery, not to speak of an
interesting one.

The Monastery
of Inchcolme—The influence wielded by monastic institutions—
Interest connected with the island—Danish monument—St. Columba—The
hermit’s oratory—Foundation of Monastery—Alexander the Fierce—Bull
of Pope Alexander the Third—List of churches and other
possessions—The Order of Augustinian Canons—Early monastic
edifice—Diocese of Dunkeld—Bishops buried on Inchcolme —Story of the
‘Fechtin’ Bishop’—An Abbot of romance—Legend of Sir Alan Mortimer's
daughter.

Having now laid before you such historical notices as I have been
able to find connected with our old Castle, the old Church before
the period of the Reformation, and the Hospital of St. Martha
throughout the whole of its shortlived existence, I am to-night to
solicit your attention to the Monastery of Inchcolme. I am not to
present you with such a statement of its foundation, and its history
from first to last, as would satisfy the insatiable cravings of
antiquaries. This would not suit the circumstances in which these
lectures are delivered. All that I shall attempt is to lay before
you the leading facts of the history of the old religious house in
as popular and pleasing a way as I can; but at the same time making
no statement which I have not been at pains to verify, as far as the
means of doing so have been within my reach. It is unfortunate for
me that I have not the labours of others in this field to fall back
on, as the present is, so far as I am aware, the first attempt to
give anything like a full account of the Monastery.

I shall not enter on any lengthened preliminary statement to prove
the importance of the subject, either in its general aspect as
bearing on the history of our country, or its more special aspect as
having a claim on the attention of those who live in the immediate
neighbourhood of the ruins of the old Abbey. That the monastic
institutions of our country exercised an important influence on its
social, literary, and religious condition, no one acquainted with
the subject is likely to deny; and that the Monastery of Inchcolme
had an important influence in these and other ways on our whole
neighbourhood, and has many historical associations with which those
who live within sight of it ought to be acquainted, will be as
readily conceded. It is not, of course, pretended that the Monastery
of Inchcolme could vie, in riches or influence, with the great
religious houses of our country; but alike in its foundation and its
fortunes, it can claim an interest of a kind peculiarly its own.
This, I trust, will appear as I attempt to tell you its history. And
in trying to' reproduce the past I wish to keep in mind how
important a thing it is that it should be the living and not the
dead past that is called up. It is, I believe, the exclusion of such
glimpses of the workings of mind and heart as old records contain
that has given rise to the idea that the study of antiquities is
necessarily dry and uninteresting ; whereas, if the past which is
conjured up is the living past—peopled with men and women of flesh
and blood, and like feelings with our own—we must admit that what
the poet says is true—

Nor rough nor barren are the winding ways
Of hoar antiquity, but strewn with flowers.

A few words must be said regarding the island on which the Monastery
is built, before we go further. A comparatively small number of
those who live in daily view of Inchcolme, or who cannot help
occasionally seeing it in crossing the Firth of Forth, are aware
with what extraordinary interest the little island is invested. It
is not merely that it is one of the ‘emeralds chased in gold,’ of
which Sir Walter Scott has sung, nor that it presents to the
antiquary the mouldering remains of a religious house of the twelfth
century. There are memories associated with Inchcolme of a deeper
and holier character than these,—memories, as we shall by and by
see, which connect it with the martyr-roll of Scottish worthies.

In its ancient name, Aemonia, or Aemona, which is said to signify
the Island of the Druids, some have found a trace of the cruel
superstition which covered our land before the introduction of
Christianity. And when the dark shadows cast by that early
superstition had passed away, Aemona continued to be regarded with
feelings of mingled reverence and awe by our own countrymen, and
even rude rovers from distant lands gazed on its grey rocks and
barren soil with something akin to pious emotion. When the
Danes—those bold and hardy invaders— made their last effort to
subdue our country, and were so signally defeated at Kinghorn, they
sought and obtained permission, as early chroniclers tell us, to
bury their slain comrades in the island of Aemona; and there,
accordingly, many of these Arabs of the deep now lie peacefully
enough. It is an interesting thing to find this story of our little
island embalmed in the pages of Shakespeare, in his tragedy of
Macbeth. After the battle, Rosse is represented as going to King
Duncan’s camp, near Forres, and when the King greets him with the
question—

‘Whence cam’st thou, worthy Thane?’

Rosse replies—

‘From Fife, great King,
Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky,
And fan our people cold.
Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor,
The Thane of Cawdor, ’gan a dismal conflict:
Till that Bellona’s bridegroom, lapped in proof,
Confronted him with self-comparisons
Point against point, rebellious arm ’gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit. And, to conclude,
The victory fell on us.’

Duncan. Great happiness!

Rosse. That now,

Sweno, the Norways’ King, craves composition;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed, at St. Colme’s Inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

This great battle was fought in the eleventh century, and a stone,
imbedded in the rising ground a little to the west of the Monastery,
is still pointed out as a monument erected to the memory of those
Danish warriors. Sir Robert Sibbald, who described it when it was
less effaced than it is now, says: ‘It is made like a coffin, and
very fierce and grim faces are done on both the ends of it. Upon the
middle stone, which supports it, there is the figure of a man
holding a spear in his hand.’ When Grose visited the island in 1789,
he found the stone lying on the ground adjacent to the Monastery.
‘At present,’ says he, ‘it is so much defaced by time or weather
that nothing like a head can be distinguished at either end; indeed,
it requires the aid of a creative fancy to make out any of the
sculpture. Something like a man with a spear is seen (by
sharp-sighted antiquaries) on the north side; and on the south the
figure of a cross.’ Grose adds that the stone had been removed from
its original position.

In Stewart’s metrical translation of Boece’s Chronicle there is an
interesting notice, by an eye-witness, of the appearance of the
island, with its stone cross still standing, and the monument which
had been erected to the memory of the chieftain of the vanquished
Danes:—

Into an isle callit Emonia,
Sanct Colmis Insche now callit is this da,
Quhair that thair banis restis zet to se,
In sindrie partis, in so greit quantitie,
Ouir all the yle, quhilk makis zet sic cummer,
Weill may ye wit ye men were out of number,
Tha banis aucht, quha that can weill considder,
Into ane place war they put all togidder,
As I myself, quhilk hes bene thair, and sene,
Ane corce of stone thair standis on ane grene
Middis the feild quhair that tha lay ilkone,
Besyde the croce thair lyis ane greit stone,
Under the stone, in middis of the plane,
Thair chiftane lyis, quhilk in the feild was slane.

I have already spoken of the introduction of Christianity into our
country, and the share Columba had in that blessed work. There can
be no doubt that to him, more than any other, the Piets—on the
southern boundary of whose ancient kingdom we have our home—were
indebted for their knowledge of the Christian religion. He visited
Brude, their king, at his fortress, near the modern Inverness;
gained his confidence in spite of much opposition, and at length
planted Christianity firmly in the province. In the Cupar ms. of the
Scotichronicon it is affirmed that St. Columba dwelt for some time
on the island of Aemona, while he preached to the Scots and Piets,
and, if tradition is to be believed, Adamnan, a successor of his in
Iona—who has left us a valuable life of Columba—was for some time
resident on Inchkeith. It is a singular thing, as Dr. Reeves, the
most recent and the best editor of Adamnan, has noticed, how closely
situated in our immediate neighbourhood the lands are which are
dedicated to these two saints. Aemona, dedicated to St. Columba, is
near Inchkeith, devoted to St. Adamnan; and Columba’s Cramond lies
immediately to the east of Adamnan’s Dalmeny. There are traces of no
fewer than fifty-five churches and chapels throughout Scotland
dedicated to St. Columba, and forty-one have been reckoned up in
Ireland.

But you are, I daresay, more interested in the question what
doctrines Columba taught than what churches and chapels were
dedicated to him. Adamnan’s Life of the saint, to which I have just
referred, is much disfigured by silly narratives of miracles alleged
to have been wrought by him; but Dr. M‘Lauchlan, the historian of
the early Scottish Church, has shown that when the history is
divested of these puerilities, it is made out, beyond the power of
reasonable contradiction, that no worship of the Virgin, or of
saints, was sanctioned by Columba; that he gave no countenance to
the doctrine of Purgatory; that Extreme Unction formed no part of
his creed; and that, although some doubtful phrases do occur in
reference to the Lord’s Supper, communion at Iona was in both kinds—
wine as well as bread being used in its ministration to the people.
That many corruptions by and by appeared among the followers of
Columba—the Culdees, as they came to be called—is undoubted. But it
may be said that, as a rule, they went to the Word of God, and not
to the Fathers, for their doctrines, and that they not only rejected
many of the peculiar tenets of Rome, but for centuries steadfastly
resisted her usurped authority over the Church of Christ.

The first building of a religious kind belonging to the island of
Aemona, of which we have any notice, was a little chapel, or
oratory, in which an eremite devoted to St. Columba lived and
performed his solitary rites. But as this hermit and his cell have
to be noticed in connection with the story of the foundation of the
Monastery, I pass from them at present with a single remark. A small
building, situated in the garden of the Abbey, has recently
attracted a good deal of notice, and has even gone through something
like a restoration, in the belief that it is the identical oratory
in which the Columban eremite worshipped before the Monastery was
founded. It was through the enlightened antiquarian zeal of Sir
James Simpson that this discovery was made. On architectural
grounds, some of the highest authorities on such matters have
acquiesced in the conclusion come to by Sir James. And on the
supposition that they are correct, the little chapel is probably the
oldest stone-roofed building in Scotland.

But the feature to which Inchcolme—the island of Columba—owes its
special interest is the Monastery. This institution dates away back
to a very early period, and what is known of its foundation first of
all demands our notice. The story, as told in the Scoiichrotiicon,
is from the pen of Bower, the continuator of Fordun’s History, and
Abbot of Inchcolme, and is in substance this:—About the year 1123,
the Monastery of St. Columba, in the island of Aemonia, near to
Inverkeithing, was founded in circumstances which were wonderful,
nay, even miraculous. For when that noble and most Christian king,
Alexander the First, was crossing from Queensferry on business of
State, there suddenly arose a violent south-west wind, which drove
the vessel down the Firth, in the direction of the island of Aemonia,
which the sailors managed to reach with the greatest difficulty.
Now, on this island there lived at that time a hermit devoted to the
service of St. Columba; and content with the sustenance afforded by
the milk of a single cow that pastured on the island, and such shell
and other fish as the sea yielded, this hermit regularly performed
the rites of worship in a little chapel on the island. On such poor
fare as this the King and his attendants, who were not a few, lived
contentedly for three whole days, during which the tempest raged
with unabated fury. While he was yet at sea, shaken with the fury of
the storm, in the midst of danger, and despairing even of life, the
King made a vow to St. Columba, to the effect that, if the saint
would carry him and his attendants safely to the island, he would
leave on it a memorial worthy of his protector, which should at the
same time be an asylum and solace to the tempest-tossed and the
shipwrecked. And this, says the chronicler, was the occasion of the
King’s building there a monastery for canons, which is still to be
seen.

Now, if we eliminate from this story the miraculous element which
had such charms in the eyes of our early chroniclers, there seems
nothing incredible in the account it gives of the foundation of the
Monastery. On the contrary, with the single abatement we have named,
everything is natural and lifelike, and in perfect keeping with the
opinions and usages of the time. Some, indeed, have doubted the
accuracy of the statement that the Monastery was founded by
Alexander the First; and of late it has become somewhat common to
call such statements in question, without being very particular as
to the grounds on which the allegation rests. How, then, does the
matter really stand?

There is no direct mention made of the founder of the Monastery in
any of the original papers connected with it which I have seen, and
the date is variously given by the early historians. In Goodall’s
edition of the Scotichro?iico?i it is 1123; in the ms. of Cupar and
the ms. of Perth it is 1034; in the Extracta it is 1024. It is
however to be borne in mind that there are no mistakes so frequently
made by transcribers as those affecting dates. Now, it is most
evident that the dates 1024 and 1034 are pure mistakes ; for the
writers who give them ascribe the foundation of the Monastery to
Alexander the First, and yet assign to his work dates that belong to
a period before his birth. Keeping this in mind, the apparent
conflict is diminished. Again, in most of the early chronicles there
is to be found one of those jingling rhymes, of which the monks of
old were so fond, giving in a few rude Latin lines the date of the
foundation of the Monastery, as well as the name of its founder. I
shall repeat this monkish conceit to you, for it is fitted to appeal
to the ear as well as the eye. It is as follows :—

If we take these lines as they are pointed in the Doni-bristle
ms.—which through the kindness of the Hon. John Stuart I had for
some time in my possession,—and as I have given them above, they may
be thus roughly translated and rhymed—

An M, a C, three I’s, and X’s two,
These letters keep the year of Christ in view,
When Alexander, First, gave Emon’s isle,
His kingly gift, a rich monastic pile.
May God translate the noble Founder’s soul
To regions high above the starry pole.

Now, however trifling these lines may appear, the letters embodied
in them can apply only to the year 1123, the date given in the
Scotichronicon. Many other arguments might be stated which
corroborate this position. Statements are to be found in the
charters of the Monastery which point to possessions owned by the
Canons as far back as the reign of Alexander the First. In a charter
of William de Mortimer, about the year 1180, a charter, granted
after his unseemly tussle with the Abbot and Canons in the
churchyard of Aberdour, he declares that he had it on the testimony
of men of the highest integrity, that, as far back as the time of
Alexander the First, the church of Aberdour had belonged to the
Canons of Inchcolme. The only other argument I shall adduce is one
having reference to the known bent of King Alexander’s character.
Bower states that from his childhood the King’s parents had inspired
him with reverence for Columba. Ailred, who was a contemporary of
the King’s, tells us that he was not ignorant of letters, that he
was zealous in establishing churches, collecting relics, and
providing vestments and books for the clergy; that he was liberal,
even to profusion, and'took delight in the offices of charity to the
poor. In addition to all this, Dr. Reeves has recently published
some Latin verses, of the beginning of the twelfth century or
thereby, which speak of the great devotion of King Alexander to St.
Columba, and the order which the King had given that the triumphs of
the saint should be committed to writing. It will be admitted that
all this points to just such a person from whom we might naturally
expect such an act of devotion as the foundation of a Monastery, and
the dedication of it to St. Columba, as the story of the chronicler
sets forth with a garnishing of monkish fable. From a careful
consideration of the whole facts and circumstances of the case, too
varied and minute to be here detailed, I believe the true state of
the case to be, that the Monastery was really founded by Alexander
the First, and that he provided the means for beginning the erection
of such buildings as were absolutely necessary; but, dying in the
following year, he did not completely fulfil his intention of
endowing it. This was, however, done by his brother, King David; for
one of the charters of the Monastery proves that he made over to
Gregory, Bishop of Dunkeld, considerable possessions, to be kept by
him for behoof of the Monastery until there should be Canons on the
island.

Now that these somewhat dry details are over, I must tell you
something of the countenance given by the Pope to the religious
house, when, fully fifty years after its actual foundation, it was
confirmed in its possessions. The Monastery was confirmed on the nth
day of March 1178, by a Bull of Pope Alexander the Third. But this,
in all probability, was not the first Bull of Institution. This
Pontiff was a man of great ability, and the date carries us back to
within a few years of the murder of Thomas a Becket, and the
humiliation of Henry the Second of England at the tomb of the
murdered prelate. I think you will be interested in the contents of
the Pope’s Bull of Protection and Confirmation, and perhaps the best
way of introducing you to it is by laying it before you in the form
of a free translation. It runs thus:—

‘Alexander, Bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his beloved
sons, Walter, Prior of the church of St. Colme’s Inch, and his
brethren, both present and to come, professing the canonical life:

‘To those who have chosen a religious life, it is befitting that
apostolical guardianship should be extended; lest, perchance, the
inroad of temerity, in the case of any one, should recall him from
his purpose, or invade the binding obligation of our holy religion,
which, be it far removed!

‘On this account, beloved sons, we have compassionately yielded to
your just entreaties, and have taken the abovenamed church of St.
Colme’s Inch—of which, by the Divine indulgence, you are
possessed—under our protection, and that of St. Peter, and have
awarded the privileges enumerated in the following deed:—

‘Ordaining, first of ail, that the Canonical Order, which is in
accordance with the will of God and the rule of St. Augustine, be
held worthy of being instituted in the said church, and be
inviolably observed there, in all time coming. And further, that
whatsoever property the said church at present justly and
canonically possesses, or in future, by the blessing of God, shall
be able to acquire, by the concession of Popes, the largesses of
Kings and Princes, the offerings of the Faithful, or in any other
honest way, shall remain firm and sure to your successors. And these
possessions we have deemed it right to enumerate in the following
specific terms, to wit: The place itself, in which the aforesaid
church is situated, with all that pertains to it; the church of
Aberdour, with its pertinents; the church of Dalgathin (Dalgety),
with its pertinents; the church of Rossive (Rosyth), with the whole
land in that town, which Richard, Bishop of Dunkeld, of blessed
memory, bestowed in perpetual alms-gift, and confirmed with his own
writing ; the church of Ochtertule (Auchtertool), with two ox-gates
of land; the chapel of Beth (Beath), with its pertinents; Kynmuchin,
by its rightful marches; the two Kincarnies, Over and Nether;
Kyllori; Glasmonth, as the aforesaid Bishop Richard confirmed it; a
half-plough of land near the church of St. Malin, and that chapel
itself; Buchedlach, by its rightful marches; what of right ye have
in Dony-brisle; in Lothian, Lauyn the Lesser, near Earl’s Lauyn;

two tofts in Caramonth-on the-Sea (Cramond); a toft in Edenburg
(Edinburgh); two tofts in Haddington; two ox-gates of land in
Middleton ; four marks out of the Mill of Caramont; three shillings
out of Craigin; a mark out of Waldeve’s Kincarnyne (Cockairnie), as
his charter confirms it to you; twelve shillings out of the lordship
of the King at Kinghorn; a toft in Tibarmore; and iooo eels out of
Strathenry, the gift of Robert de Quincy.

‘Assuredly no one may presume to exact tithes of your newly
cultivated lands, which you till with your own hands, or at your own
charges, or for the nourishment of your cattle.

‘We ordain, moreover, that if, at any time, there should be a
general interdict on the land, it shall be lawful for you to perform
Divine service, in an undertone, with closed doors, and without the
ringing of bells—the excommunicated and interdicted being first
excluded.

‘It shall likewise be lawful for you to receive and retain, without
let or hindrance, women who are free and unfettered, and flee from
the world for the conversion of their souls.

‘Moreover, we forbid that any of your brotherhood, after having
assumed the habit of your Order, should leave the Monastery without
the permission of the Prior, unless it be for the purpose of
assuming the habit of a stricter order. And let no one dare to give
shelter to those who depart without a letter from the convent they
leave.

‘Further, it shall not be lawful for any one to make new or unwonted
exactions from you or your churches; or in any way to disturb you
without manifest and reasonable cause. Moreover, it shall be lawful
for you to make selection of clerks and priests for the parish
churches belonging to you, and to present the same to the Bishop of
the diocese ; and he, if he shall find them fit for the office,
shall commit to them the care of souls; and they shall be answerable
to him in spiritual matters, but to you in tern-poral. It shall also
be lawful for you to place three or four of your Canons in the
churches that belong to you, each one of whom shall receive the care
of souls from the Bishop of the diocese, and shall be accountable to
him in spiritual matters, and to you in temporal. And we strictly
prohibit the Canons, with the single exception of the Prior, from
receiving protestations.

‘Furthermore, we decree that the sepulture of the foresaid place
shall be free to all, unless, perchance, they be excommunicated or
interdicted : so that no one may stand in the way of the devotion
and last desire of those who shall resolve on being buried
there—reserving always the rights of those churches from which the
bodies of the dead are thus taken.

‘And on the death of you, the Prior of the said place, or of any of
your successors, no man may be appointed by stealth, cunning, or
violence ; but one shall be chosen whom the brethren, by common
consent, or that portion of them who are wiser in counsel, shall, in
accordance with the fear of God, and the rule of the blessed
Augustine, recommend for election.

‘And we ordain that it shall not be lawful for any man rashly to
disturb the foresaid church by taking away its possessions, or by
detaining, diminishing, or obstructing its offerings; but all things
belonging to it shall be preserved intact for those persons to whose
management, and for whose support, these possessions have been
given, the authority of the Apostolic See and the canonical rights
of the diocesan Bishop being always respected.

‘If, therefore, in time to come, any person, lay or clerical, I
shall knowingly and wilfully attempt to contravene this charter of
institution, let him—unless, after a second or third admonition, he
shall acknowledge his fault, and make worthy amends—be treated
without the dignity due to his j position and rank; and let him know
that he is guilty, in the Divine estimation, because of the wrong he
has done; and let him be denied all communion with the most holy
body and blood of our God and Redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ; and,
in his last agony, let him be exposed to the Divine vengeance.

‘But on all and sundry who respect the rights of the said place, let
there rest the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ; so that, in this
life, they may reap the fruits of their good deeds, and, in the end,
receive the reward of eternal peace at the hands of an unbending
Judge. Amen !

‘I, Alexander, Bishop of the Catholic Church, subscribe : I,
Numaldus, Bishop of Hostia, subscribe: I, John, Presbyter Cardinal
of St. John and St. Paul, subscribe. Given, at the Lateran, by the
hand of Albert, Presbyter Cardinal and Chancellor of the Holy Roman
Church, on the nth day of March, in the year of the Incarnation of
our Lord one thousand one hundred and seventy-eight, and in the
twentieth year of the pontificate of our Lord, Pope Alexander the
Third.’

Such is the Bull which at length confirmed the full status of a
monastery of canons-regular to the church of St. Colme’s Inch ; such
were the privileges which it pleased the Pope to confer upon it; and
such the possessions it owned at the beginning of its history.

There are a few things in this Bull to which it may be well, at this
stage, to call your attention. You have observed, I doubt not, that
it is addressed not to the Abbot, but to the Prior, of the
Monastery; that instructions are given regarding the election of
succeeding Priors; and, in short, that there is not a word in it
about an Abbot. It is of importance to notice this; for, at a later
stage, I shall endeavour to prove, what I have never seen so much as
hinted at, that the Monastery of Inchcolme was at first, and down to
about the year 1233, a Priory.

You will have marked, also, the clause regarding the sepulture of
the place, which has an important bearing on the story that Sir
Robert Sibbald tells, about the high price paid by Sir Alan Mortimer
for the right of burial in the church of the Monastery ; for which,
however, I have been unable to find any authority.

You cannot have failed to wonder at that clause of the Bull which
declares that the Prior and Convent are at liberty to receive women
fleeing to them for conversion. We must be allowed to think that a
monastery filled with celibates was rather a strange place for women
to flee to for conversion.

The enumeration of the possessions of the Monastery, in the twelfth
century, must also have engaged your attention in no ordinary way. I
know no document which has such a degree of interest connected with
it, as regards the history of places in our neighbourhood, as that
which I have now laid before you. What would we not give /to see
these places as they then appeared, and what would we not give to
see the people who dwelt in them in those early days!

The religious order of the brethren of the Monastery is strictly
defined. They must be canons-regular of the Order of St. Augustine,
and you are, I daresay, anxious to know something of that Order. In
the eighth century, when great corruption had found its way into the
so-called Sacred Orders, a new Order arose, who occupied an
intermediate place between the monks, or regular clergy, and the
secular priests. These were at first called the Lord’s Brethren ;
but at length they took the name of Canons. They adopted, in part,
the discipline and mode of life of monks. They dwelt together, ate
at a common table, and joined in united prayer at certain hours.
They did not, however, take vows upon them to abjure property, as
the monks did, and some of them performed ministerial functions in
certain churches. The corruption which seems to be inseparable from
such a mode of life, when men are shut up in cloisters, and denied
the social intercourse which their nature demands, speedily sank the
order of Canons as low as the other orders of ecclesiastics in that
dark age. A great effort was made in the eleventh century to reform
them, and from that period dates the distinction between canons
regular and secular. The seculars lived in the same house, and ate
at the same table, but retained the revenues and perquisites of
their priestly office. The regulars, on the other hand, renounced
all private property, and lived very much after the manner of monks.
And as the rule which Ivo, Bishop of Chartres, laid down for the
latter coincided, to a large extent, with that which St. Augustine
introduced among the clergy, the regular canons were called by many,
and loved to call themselves, canons-regular of St. Augustine.
Unnatural as the whole monastic system undoubtedly was, setting
aside, as it did, the natural instincts of man, and traversing God’s
arrangement regarding family life ; productive too, as it was, of
great evils in our own and other countries, it must still be
admitted that the Augustinian Order was comparatively free from many
of the abuses that degraded and disgraced the others. It is a
remarkable fact, alluded to by Professor Lorimer in his Life of
Patrick Hamilton, that while few of the secular clergy embraced
evangelical doctrines at the period of the Reformation, and almost
none of the Franciscans, the Cistercians, the Benedictines, or the
Carmelites, many of the Augustinian canons and Dominican friars
warmly espoused these doctrines. In this connection the name of
Thomas Forret, Vicar of Dollar, and one of the Canons of Inchcolme,
casts a halo of glory over our old Monastery, as we shall by and by
see more fully.

It is to be borne in mind, then, that the Canons of Inchcolme were
of this Order. It was introduced into Scotland by Alexander the
First. The members of it were, in the first instance, generally
foreigners—either Saxons or French; and they had, at one time, no
fewer than twenty-eight monasteries in our land.

It will be asked if we have any information regarding the appearance
presented by the buildings of the Monastery, in its best days. We do
not, of course, enter largely into architectural details in a
popular lecture. The Monastery seems to have been famed for its
lofty tower and its magnificent church. The tower, which is still
standing, is, in its rigid simplicity, a very fine one ; and was
intended to attract the notice of tempest-tossed sailors to the
hospitable shores of the island. From what remains of the other
buildings of the Monastery—the beautiful stone-roofed octagonal
chapter-house, the Abbot’s house, the cloisters, and the refectory,
we can easily see that they were of different ages, and of great
extent. And their original occupants must have anticipated, for
them, a greater exemption from the ravages of time than falls to the
lot of most edifices. This we may conclude from a very curious
inscription, which is said to have been placed over the door of the
church. It ran as follows :—

Still may these turrets lift their heads on high,
Nor e’er, as crumbling ruins, strew the ground,
Until an ant shall drink the ocean dry,
And a slow tortoise travel the world round.

If this wish is to be regarded as at all prophetic, the walls of the
old Abbey, such as they are, have still a considerable period of
existence before them. In the absence of any authentic information,
it might be rash to say how far short of his journey’s end the
adventurous tortoise is. He is, no doubt, taking matters uncommonly
easy. But, judging from the appearance of the Firth, and what one
occasionally hears of the great oceans of the globe, it is safe to
infer that the ant has still a good deal of hard work before her.

Frequent mention is made, in the Pope’s Bull, of the Bishop of the
diocese in which the Monastery was situate; and perhaps not many of
my audience are aware—unless, indeed a sentence in an earlier
lecture has made them acquainted with the fact—that not only the
Abbey, but the churches of Aberdour, Dalgety, Beath, and others
belonging to it, were in the diocese of Dunkeld. How places so far
removed from one another came to be thus associated is one of those
antiquarian puzzles which are more easily stated than solved. Be
this as it may, not only was the Monastery within the diocese of
Dunkeld ; but several of the Bishops of that See lie buried in the
church of the Abbey. Richard de Praebenda, who died at Cramond in
1174, is buried there. There, too, lies another Richard, who died in
1210; and John de Leycester, who died in 1214; as also Gilbert, who
departed this life in 1233. Another of the Bishops of Dunkeld,
Richard of Inverkeithing, who, before he was elevated to the See,
was Chamberlain to the King, and Lord Chancellor some time
afterwards, was a great benefactor of the Monastery ; and although
his body lies at Dunkeld, his heart was buried at the north wall of
the choir of the church of St. Colme’s Inch, in 1272.

For some time after this, Inchcolme seems to have lost favour as a
burying-place for the Bishops of Dunkeld; but, in 1483, James
Livingstoun, who was first Dean, and then Bishop, of the See, and
also Lord Chancellor, was buried in the church of the Monastery.

But perhaps a notice of a single living Bishop of the diocese would
interest you more than the burial of many in the old Abbey church.
Permit me, then, to introduce to you William Sinclair, Bishop of
Dunkeld, of whom I have already spoken as ‘the Fechtin’ Bishop.’ The
complexion of a man’s times has often a good deal to do with the
moulding of his character; and our somewhat erratic friend, William
Sinclair, has this to urge, in extenuation of his eccentricities,
that, without being consulted in the matter, he was cast upon the
troublous times of Wallace and Bruce. The Bishops of Dunkeld had, at
that time, a baronial residence in our neighbourhood, at Auchtertool.
This place came afterwards to be known as Hallyards; and under the
still more modern name of Camilla—so named, by one of the Earls of
Moray, in compliment to his Countess, who was one of the Argyll
Campbells—its walls are now crumbling to dust. William Sinclair was
living there in the year 1315, when a party of English, sent to
invade Scotland by sea, appeared in the Forth; and, landing at
Donibristle, began to lay waste the country in our immediate
neighbourhood. The Sheriff of the county, aided, according to Lord
Hailes, by Duncan, Earl of Fife, and a train of 500 men, attempted
to oppose the English ; but, intimidated by superior numbers, they
beat a precipitate retreat. When the Bishop heard the report of what
had happened, he hastily mounted his horse; and, at the head of
sixty of his retainers, set out to the aid of his baffled
countrymen. Meeting the Sheriff and his band, who were fleeing in
great confusion, the Bishop asked him why he was retreating in such
a cowardly way. The Sheriff took refuge under the assertion that the
English were more numerous and powerful than they. ‘It would serve
you right,’ cried the Bishop, ‘if the King were to order the gilt
spurs to be hacked off your heels!’ Then, throwing his Bishop’s robe
away, he snatched a spear, and, putting spurs to his horse, dashed
on, crying, ‘Follow me!—who loves Scotland, follow me!’ His
countrymen rallied round him; and, pressing on in the direction of
Donibristle, gained an easy victory over the enemy; ‘of whom,’ says
an old chronicler, ‘there fell more than 500 men, besides a great
number who rushed into a boat, and, overloading it, sank along with
it.’ When this incident occurred Robert the Bruce was in Ireland,
fighting for his brother Edward’s advancement to the throne of that
country. He soon heard, however, of Sinclair’s intrepidity, and
exclaimed, ‘He shall be my bishop ! ’ And, under the double
appellation of ‘ the King’s Bishop’ and ‘ the Fechtin’ Bishop,’
William Sinclair was long remembered by his countrymen. Few will
regard him as the beau-ideal of a bishop; but no one will deny him
the distinction of a patriot. I have some reason for thinking that
the large upright stone, which stands a little to the west of the
south gate leading to Fordell, has some monumental connection with
this fight.

I must now lay before you some notices of the brethren by whom the
Monastery was peopled through so many centuries; its Priors, and
Abbots, and some of its more distinguished Canons. It will, however,
I believe, be an agreeable variety for you, before entering on that
department of our narrative, to hear of the mysterious powers
belonging to Abbots of Inchcolme, as poets have feigned them. A
legend used to be told at many a fireside in Fife, of the
supernatural way in which an Abbot of our old Monastery restored one
of Sir Alan Mortimer’s daughters, who had the misfortune to be
carried off to the land of the Fairies. This legend has been wedded
to verse, by David Vedder, and I shall, with your leave, read it to
you, in order that you may have the opportunity of comparing the
Abbots of fiction with those of fact. Vedder’s lines are these :—

SIR ALAN MORTIMER.

A Legend of Fife.

The morning’s e’e saw mirth and glee
I’ the hoary feudal tower
Of bauld Sir Alan Mortimer,
The Lord of Aberdour.
But dool was there, and mickle care,
When the moon began to gleam ;
For Elf and Fay held jubilee
Beneath her siller beam.

Sir Alan’s peerless daughter was
His darling frae infancie,
She bloomed, in her bovver, a lily flower,
Beneath the light o’ his e’e.
Her eyes were gems, her brow was bright,
Her tresses black as jet;
And her thoughts as pure as the dews of even
On the virgin violet.

The woodbine and the jessamine
Their tendrils had entwined ;
A bower was formed, and Emma oft
At twilight there reclined.
She thought of her Knight in Palestine,
And sometimes she would sigh,
For love was a guest in her spotless breast,
In heavenly purity.

The setting sun had ceased to gild
St. Columb’s holy tower,
And the vesper star began to glow,
Ere Emma left her bower.
And the fairy court had begun their sport
Upon the daisied lea;
While the gossamer strings of their virginals rang
Wi’ fairy melodie.

That night the King had convoked his court
Upon the enamelled green;
To pick and wale, thro’ his beauties a’,
For a blumin’ fairy queen:
An’, ere ever he wist, he spied a form
That rivalled his beauties a’—
’Twas Emma—Sir Alan Mortimer’s pride,
Coming hame to her father’s ha’.

Quick as the vivid lightning gleams,
Amidst a thunder storm;
As rapidly the elf assumed
Lord Bethune’s manly form.
As flies the cushat to her mate,
To meet his embrace she flew;
Like a feathered shaft frae a yeoman’s bow,
She vanished frae human view.

The Abbey bell, on the sacred isle,
Had told the vesper’s hour;
No footsteps are heard—no Emma appears,
Sir Alan rushed from his tower.
The warders they ha’e left their posts,
And ta’en them to the bent;
The porters they ha’e left their yetts;
The sleuth-hounds are on the scent.

The vassals a’ ha’e left their cots,
And sought thro’ bouke and wold;
But the good sleuth-hounds they a’ lay down
On the purple heath and yowled.
Sir Alan was aye the foremost man
In dingle, bouke, and briar ;
But, when he heard his sleuth-hounds yowl,
He tore his thin grey hair.

An’ aye he cheered his vassals on,
Though his heart was like to break;
But, when he saw his hounds lie down,
Fu’ mournfully then he spake:
‘Unearthlie sounds affright my hounds;
Unearthlie sights they see;
They quiver and shake, in the heather brake,
Like the leaves o’ the aspen tree.

My blude has almost ceased to flow,
And my soul is chilled wi’ fear;
Lest the elfin or the demon race
Should ha’e stown my daughter dear.
Haste ! haste to the holy Abbot that dwells
On St. Columb’s sacred shores;
An’ tell him a son o’ the Holy Kirk
His ghostlie aid implores.

Bid him buckle sic spiritual armour on,
As is proof against glamourie;
Lest the fiends o’ night ha’e power to prevail
Against baith him and me.’
The rowers ha’e dashed across the sound
And knocked at the chapel door,
The Abbot was chanting his midnight hymn
St. Columb’s shrine before.

His saintlike mien, his radiant e’en,
An’ his tresses o’ siller grey,
Might ha’e driven to flight the demon o’ night,
But rood or rosarie.
The messenger dropt upon his knees,
And humbly thus he said—
‘My master, a faithfu’ son o’ the Kirk,
Implores your ghostlie aid;

And ye’re bidden to put sic armour on
As is proof against glamourie;
Lest the fiends o’ nicht ha’e power to prevail
Against baith him and thee.’
The Abbot leaped lightly into the boat,
And pushed her frae the strand,
An’, pantin’ for breath, ’tween life and death,
The vassals rowed to land.

Forego your fear, and be of good cheer,
I hereby pledge my word,
That by Mary’s might, ere I sleep this night,
Your daughter shall be restored.’
The Abbot had made a pilgrimage
Barefoot to Palestine,
Had slept in the Holy Sepulchre,
And visions he had seen.

His girdle had been seven times laved
In Siloam’s sacred stream;
And holy St. Bride a crucifix hung
Around his neck in a dream;
A bead was strung on his rosarie
That had cured three men bewitched;
And a relic o’ the real
Cross His pastoral staff enriched.

He carried a chalice in his hand,
Brimfu’ o’ water clear,
For his ain behoof that had oozed frae the roof
O’ the Holy Sepulchre.
He sprinkled bauld Sir Alan’s lands
Wi’ draps o’ the heavenly dew,
And the fiends o’ nicht, wi’ gruesome yell,
To their midnight darkness flew.

Anon he shook his rosarie,
And invoked St. Mary’s name,
Until sweet Emma’s voice was heard
Chantin’ the virgin hymn ;
But when he brandished the holy Rood
And raised it to the sky,
Like a beam o’ light she burst on their sight,
In vestal purity.

Such is the legend of Sir Alan Mortimer’s daughter, her theft by the
fairies, and her restoration to her father’s embrace. And I am sure
you will agree with me in thinking that much credit was due to the
Abbot of Inchcolme for bringing matters to such a happy issue. There
is a peculiar charm in these old stories, which almost all feel; and
it would be unpardonable in us not to know what is so interestingly
connected, in a literary point of view, with our immediate
neighbourhood. Stories of this kind, when draped in the graces of
poetry, sometimes exercise a spell of another kind. They frequently
set young ladies a-sighing after roods and rosaries and other
emblems of a faith which, once all but effete in our country, has of
late begun to lift up its head again. Such impressible persons would
no doubt be shocked were we to tell them that, after dipping pretty
deeply into writings of this kind, we are hard-hearted enough to
look on all this sprinkling of holy water, and shaking of the
rosary, and brandishing of the cross, without anything at all akin
to that emotion. It affects us, no doubt; but then, by some law of
association, we find ourselves immediately afterwards thinking on
the feats of the ‘Wizard of the North’! It would, however, be unwise
to put the Abbots of sober fact in competition with such Abbots as
poets have feigned; and so we shall relegate our account of the real
Abbots to another lecture.

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